Joy Between Grief
by SweetCarnation
Summary: In small ways they undo each other, sweet times bouncing back and forth in a world of sadness and betrayal. They mature together, learning of beauty and ugliness never letting their joined affections be tainted by anything but themselves. And so on, their circle grows as they do, enjoying every small moment, however chaste it is. ZxA
1. Reminisce

_A/N: Hello! It's been too long, hasn't it? Here I am, presenting to you people the fruit of my feels and my feels over Crisis Core and FF7, especially since I've recently gotten sucked into the whole KH and FF world during summer break and now I feel as if I need to contribute to this fandom. _

_This will be a collection of little shots or stories. I_ do _have some more substantial ideas to hold on for a few chapters, but until I'm done fleshing out the plot, I won't post them. However, they will be posted as a separate story. _

_Do tell me what you think of this first chapter: if the characters are IC, if you like or dislike the descriptions, and all. I'm pretty much trying my hand at various techniques, especially since I believe writing is a passion that I want to lead somewhere to have people enjoy it._

_Well, in any case, this is long overdue. I don't know how regularly I can update, since I've pretty busy with life, but I do have a few free spots there and there to hold on. Feel free to review (even anonymously) and I hope you'll like this. :)_

_(Note: you people are crazy. I just check my stats after two-three months of vacation and I find my stories have exploded. You are truly all wonderful :D )_

_Now, if I may, I will go cry over the feels of Zack, Cloud, Sephiroth, Bleach ending soon, Naruto as well, the author of Attack on Titan knowing how it will end, Fairy Tail entering one its last arcs I believe, Birdy the Mighty II chapter 137 not released yet anf fluffy Kingdom Hearts remakes and let's plays to hold me while I'm sobbing over Jodie's story in Beyond: Two Souls. _

_:3_

* * *

She didn't know what to say.

Here he was, sobbing and mourning his best friend's leave in her arms, and her tongue was tied into more tangles than the ones she combed out of her hair.

As his shoulders shook, his sturdy form trembling in restrained sadness, she found herself sucking in a sharp breath. Her mind was filled with fog, a haze reflected through her bottle misty eyes as she leaned over him, resting her cheek against his soft midnight spikes.

Her heart constricted painfully in her chest, and even the Planet's soothing murmurs had quickly been drowned by his shaky breath, his soul-deep hurt stifling. If she couldn't be comforted and the pain wasn't hers, how could she help him stop hurting?

She closed her eyes, moving slowly to rock him. That was what her mom had done whenever she was in pain or when the Planet would sometimes forget she was still a child, still too young for all the pain and the abomination it spoke of so freely, scaring her out of her wits.

She supposed he was like that: lost and afraid, though his pride would never let him admit it.

So he got these feelings out the only way he had left; through shaky, silent sobs and invisible tears.

Another tremor hit his form and she sighed shakily, fingers curling into his dark uniform. She stayed like that, hunched over him for long minutes, moving her face to rest her forehead on his shoulder, praying silently to the Planet, the guardian of all livings, to sooth his pain, start filling the cracks in his heart so he wouldn't have to feel the sobs rising and choking in his throat.

It was in this moment that she wanted nothing more but to stay like that, holding his form tighter as he leaned back for comfort, help. She rocked him gently, unaware of how long he had bottled up these feelings, but swearing to herself she would do everything in her power to calm the pain, heal the wound, no matter how much time it took or how stubborn he'd act.

And somehow, through her silent hope, her prayers had been answered. He stopped trembling, eventually, as his shaky sobs subsided and echoed faintly before sizzling out. When they did, she heaved a breathless sigh; hearing a man – no, a boy – cry, was much more heart wrenching than she'd ever believed, especially since it was _him._

"Men cry not for themselves, but for fallen comrades," she had heard once from the same brilliant young man who had crumbled down in front of her, quoting with a mock laugh a line from LOVELESS, and she never thought how true the sentence rung until now.

Moving slowly to catch a look at his face, she was surprised when one his of hands shot up to catch hers. Silently, she crawled awkwardly around him until she was sitting on her knees right in front of him, a pale hand cradled loosely in his calloused ones.

The atmosphere was littered in sadness and mourning colors, as if the church had leeched the colors of life from the boy himself. Worried, she murmured his name and he looked up to her, beautiful sky-blue eyes crisscrossed by angry red marks, lips puffy and cheeks tinted scarlet. He made no move to hide his face, a mirror to his true feelings, and she felt a tiny flutter in her heart at the trust he showed her.

His eyes were half-lidded, she noted, and asked, unusual, but knowing, "Do you want to sleep?"

The SOLDIER boy shook his head, afraid his voice would break and she felt her poor heart crack at the sight: he appeared so fragile and childlike; it was a shame someone as sunny and brimming with life as him had been reduced to this catatonic-like, sleepy state.

At his negative answer, she broke their gaze, letting her eyes trail to their connected hands. She watched his gloveless his fingers curl around tighter, and she unconsciously let her thumb brush over his knuckles in a soothing way. Afterward, when she felt the tension fade from his digits, she dared ask another question, breaking the calming silence of the church.

"Wanna talk about it?"

He seemed to think about it, but he _did_ nod, answering her simple interrogation.

And so they talked in hushed whispers, afraid if they spoke any louder, the outside world would break their intimate bubble. He related his times with his mentor, growing a little confident as he ended a tale to begin another one, but his eyes never did leave her face, as if he wanted to imprint a pretty image in his mind to associate it to thoughts of his lost friend.

_"Left me to face a bunch of angry chocobos on my own, still go the scratches."_

_"And then he opened the door and his face was _priceless _I tell ya. He could be so stoic at times, I think Sephiroth's rubbed on him too much, yeah?"_

_"He was pretty popular too; had a fanclub. I managed to steal some of their docs and know what I found? He loved gardening! I'm sure you and him would have gotten along, making jokes on puppies and talking about flower stuff…"_

_"Did I tell ya about that time I decided to prank him and–"_

He was still not done, but the shrill ring of his PDA cut him off right in the middle of his stride. His face took on a brief chagrined look, but soon enough it faded away. It seemed talking about his friend to the only person left who understood him best had cheered him up ever so slightly.

His head fell, glaring at his laps, refusing to answer the damned phone connecting him to the company. He made a grimace as she left him, bypassing his form to come back to her flowers.

Disappointment settled in his chest as he wondered if all of their conversation and the hurt had been one-sided on his part, but the flower girl surprised him by presenting him the very namesake she grew in the church.

"Take it to him for me, okay?"

And as his fingers curled around hers and the stem of the plant, he nodded jerkily, wondering, "You think he…?"

She smiled and he swore that if she hadn't denied being an angel on their first meeting, he'd have fought against anything in the world that could have given her white wings to take her away from him.

"I'm sure he's watching over you, even if you don't see him."

And so it became sort of a ritual. He would praise his mentor, joke around and share some of his secrets with her, knowing she'd be kind and caring to him and his wiles, even though she had been so afraid of SOLDIER, of his job. Meanwhile, she'd offer some wise cracks on her own or witty lines that only his former dumbapple-loving friend would think of.

He never did _quite _fill the gaping hole his lost friend had pierced, but somehow, with the flower girl by his side, understanding and lovely in her gardening appearances, he could almost _feel _his approving nod and that was enough for him.

(And it was only years later that he learned how _right _he was, when the clone flew through the church, keeping an eye on his girl. He believed it was weird how much like _him_ the creature acted, but seemingly, his LOVELESS-spouting childhood friend could control his own copies from beyond the grave, so why couldn't his Buster Sword-wielding mentor do the same?)

And sometimes, he had the weird feeling the clone was glaring at him openly whenever he said something upsetting or unworthy of his teachings.

Yeesh, his teacher was still as uptight as ever, alive or not.

(But he would have it either way).


	2. Fun Times

_A/N: Mambo de Chocobo. 'nuff said._

* * *

"Yeesh, can't a guy like a girl in peace?"

"Not when it's you Zack…"

Nope. Don't _think _about joking on Zack's wry look. Besides, it wasn't his fault: SOLDIER was a gossiping den. Couldn't do a thing about it.

"So how the heck did they find out about her? Huh, _Kunsel?_"

Ignore accusating tone. Stay calm and collected. Thank the Goddess for whoever came up with obligatory helmets and SOLDIER uniforms.

Now, for the innocent fib.

"Guess it's when SOLDIER became peaceful and all. No more tornado-puppy to throw the whole place upside-down or make a mess, you know?"

His First Class friend was unimpressed, clearly not convinced.

"Right. But that's not what I asked."

Oh boy, that was trouble. Since when Zack had gotten so… observant? Guy was known for his obliviousness, not his non-existing awareness…

_Don't stutter! _The evil eye would _not _corner him. Remember the bro code, Kuns.

"Then why don't you ask…"

"The Turks? Already did. They're tight-lipped; got that from up-close experience with Tseng."

Yeah, but Tseng liked that Aerith-girl. That much everyone knew.

Except for Zack and his obvious obliviousness. Must be painful to be left out so many times…

"Kunsel? Running out of patience here, man."

Not good, he was short on ideas… Think, think, think, Kuns! What the _heck _were his wits standing for if he couldn't save the guy's and his hide….

He was starting to sweat bullets. Damn it! Why was it getting hotter in here? His neurones were frying there.

Dang Shinra's A-C.

Snap out of it! He was under interrogation from a guy that could ruin Reno's credibility as a Turk with his incredulity and annoyance right here. Ugh, why was it always him getting the dirty jobs?

"_Kunseeel?"_

"It ain't my fault Zack, you weren't too subtle about getting yourself a girl, yeah?"

Oops, wrong choice of words… Wasn't he supposed to be stoic and professional or of the sorts? So much for being well-informed and eloquent.

Well at least if he failed, the Turks could cover up. They owned them SOLDIER Second Class damn good for distracting Zack and his stubborn decision to visit that slum-girl two weeks back.

…

Geez, he was dead, wasn't he?

"_Hey Zack! _You're back!"

Never thought he could get so elated from hearing Luxiere, though, to be honest.

"Luxiere? Hey guy, how's your day going?"

How come he wasn't treated that nicely? He comes back and he's bombarded with "How the heck do you all know 'bout Aerith?" or "Who's behind all this?"…

Fair wasn't fair.

(Ok, that was a bad pun on his part. Mental memo, Kuns: don't do puns.)

"I'm great. Just pumped up about that last assignment!"

"Really? Where was it?"

Oh no, he had a flash. Luxiere had taken that monster-hunting flyer that _everyone _knew not to touch, didn't he? And as far as he knew, those garbled creature things were lurking especially around–

"Sector 5! You know, with the nice church and the market. They've got a pretty sweet flower-vending girl too. Looked familiar though, don't know why. But the homies were kind of… off yeah? Lured me left or right in that maze city…"

Yep, R.I.P, Lux. Your naivety became your doom. Never have been such a bright light when relationships or annoyed boyfriends were involved.

So meanwhile, better save your skin, Kuns. Come back for the Lux meat when you're done; Shinra researchers will _love _human-sized jigsaw puzzles.

He jumped behind a table. Zack's voice was weird: it promised incoming death.

"Oho! Do _entertain _me, Lux! So, was the flower girl nice?" Entertain? That wasn't part of Zack's vocabulary before…

An overfriendly arm was slung around Luxiere's shoulder, and Zack's tense smile was borderline creepier than Sephiroth's rare chuckles.

They created a monster. (SOLDIERs did, not Shinra. The company was shady enough.)

"Yeah. She seemed nice; sold me a few flowers but I couldn't take them back, official business and all. Homies said her name was–"

He looked at his left and right, pursed lips conveying his deadpan at the miserable sight. Had every goddamn SOLDIER deserted the place to hide behind a slab of wood and escape a furious Zack?

Kind of sad.

But hey, save your hide, then your pride. Poor Lux had nothing coming his way.

"Aerith."

"Hey, yeah! That's her name, how didja guess?"

"Oh, simple: I didn't." Yep. Apocalypse, Armageddon, Big Bang: new nicknames for Zack. "That's my girl's name, remember?"

Lux took his sweet time thinking.

"Oh!" Realization befell him. Doom was piggybacking on it as well. "I see, that's why everyone told me to not take that mission," he said, snapping his fingers in understanding.

…

Flabbergasted expressions. Shocked countenances everywhere: blabbermouth Lux was dead, if not by Zack's hands, then SOLDIERs'.

And he ought to teach what was left of the eviscerated thing about the bro code.

Zack cleared his throat and cracked his knuckles: the man wouldn't hold a grudge, but he was pretty cranky. And to Kunsel's (as well as everybody's) credit, a silently pissed off Zack meant you had pretty much only the time to blink before making a mad dash for your _frigging life, oh what the HELL he's fast, HE'S __**RIGHT BEHIND,**__ NOOOOOO!_

* * *

_Zack doesn't mean any harm. He's just teaching them SOLDIERs a valuable lesson: First Class people dislike rumors. :)_

* * *

_Extra:_

And to escape running doom's fury, Kunsel found himself cramped up with a shitload of bruised flesh under Tseng's or Sephiroth's or for heck's sake _Lazard's _– who cared who it was anymore's – ridiculously_ tiny _desks while the cool men dealt efficiently with a peeved First Class.

Pfeh, just another ordinary evening in the Shinra building.

"You think he's gone?"

Whispers, whispers.

"Probably's still on the loose."

"Great, what a cheap death. _PAH!_"

Muttered agreements.

"Hey, earlier Aerith gave me her number in case she couldn't contact Zack! Do you think he'll spare us if I call her and ask her to save us?

Grumbles, then a shout.

"_By the Goddesses, get out of here and get your damn phone already Luxiere!"_

"Geez, fine, fine. No need to be snappy, Kuns!"


	3. Ordinary Day

_One chappie every two weeks is gonna be my motto. Hope new ideas come forth, and enjoy this :)  
__Btw, thank to koryandrs for your review :3_

* * *

She combed her fingers through her light chocolate waves, unthreading her braid slowly. When she was done, she took up her brush and began untangling the damage from her previous night's sleep.

The knot resisted at the beginning, but swift deft movements and long hours or practice had them unfolding under the brush's teeth. Yet, no matter how many times she tried to tame her wild hair, she still had that one little problem.

It always fell in curtains in front of her face, plastering itself on her countenance due to the humid air of the slums.

And it was while she was trying to open a path for her eyes and nose to see and breathe, slowly heating up under her cover of chocolate wisps, that he arrived, all warm sunshine and vivid energy radiating from him like a miniature version of the Sun she had never seen.

But he quite compared to it, so it was kind of a half-truth.

"Good morning Midgar!" he exclaimed loudly for everyone to hear, earning himself a glare from the Angeal copy that was blissfully lost in a Puppy-less dream-induced world not only a few moments away.

Then, his eyes moved on around and caught sight of a mass of waist-length curly brown hair. He raised an eyebrow, but seeing a pink ribbon wrapped around a pale wrist, he chuckled, walking to the figure.

"Hey, how you doin' beautiful?" he greeted flirtatiously, sending his ungloved hands into the mad tangles of chocolate and cupping the flower girl's beaming face, plastered strands imprisoned under his fingers. As he sent another look at the long wisps, he asked, "You cut your hair shorter?"

She rolled her eyes, letting go of the brush and wrapping her own hands around his warm ones. "No, I cut them longer, silly," she answered with a small teasing smile, but his attention was already lost somewhere else, his face getting dangerously near as he bumped nose with her.

"Tell me something I don't know," he huffed huskily, the atmosphere around them warming up alarmingly so.

However, it seemed that their mock-comedy and passionate act was interesting as the Angeal copy regarded the pair with curious eyes until the most down-to-the-Planet part of it, probably the Angeal section, decided the boy would pay for slacking off his work if he got that soft on leave.

Its attention was enraptured again, though, when the slum-girl spoke up again, voice low in response to her partner's.

"Doesn't take a lot to do that, you know."

The not-quite-grown-up Gongaga-originated man didn't comment. He swooped down and pushed his mouth on hers, kissing her a few good times before pulling back, equally wide grins stretching on both their faces.

Oh, today was a good day, he figured, leaning down to receive a few more mouthed goodies.


	4. Nagging Annoyance

_A/N: Thank you lovelies for reading this story :3  
This takes place right after Zack gathers the material for the flower wagon. I think it's kind of the continuation of the annoyance he felt when he saw Tseng around Aerith's church.  
Anyways, enjoy, and see you all in two weeks! :D_

* * *

He was tense and grumbling.

Quite unlike his usual bright and funny self, her SOLDIER boy was kneeling on the ground, hammering a few nails into wooden planks. She thought asking him to build her a flower wagon would help take his mind off the matter of the Angeal copy, but it seemed she had been wrong.

Especially since she could make out the cords of his neck and the muscles of his back.

After a few glances at him, she decided she wanted to stop his brooding. Their time together was short and she wanted him to appreciate his leave as much as he could: his current mood wasn't helping.

She went to his side, bending at the waist and peering at his tightly knit eyebrows and pursed lips then at the curved mass of wood his hands had shaped. "It's starting to shape up already," she commented lightly, a twinge of happiness lingering in her voice.

She expected one of his confident, borderline boisterous, answers that had her shaking her head every time to be sent her way, along with a cocky grin tugging at his lips. However, he only grunted, slamming the hammerhead on a particularly innocent-looking plate of metal harder than he should have and throwing the tool into his oeuvre.

The way he was glaring at the would-be-wagon, arms and legs now crossed and shoulders hunched forward accentuating his absent snarl, she thought he wanted it to combust under the power of his eyes.

It wasn't rage or weariness, though, that was flaring wide and clear behind midday irises: that she clearly noted. It was more like he was irritated… with himself.

Or someone else.

She knelt by his side, touching his arm lightly. Taking in his silent brooding, she let her hands trail down the firm bronze skin and grasped his own gloved appendages, tugging at them so his arms would not be crossed anymore.

He sent a glance her way, curious yet somewhat distant, cold. His face was still frozen in that same discontented expression, but she knew he had moved an eyebrow to ask her a silent question.

Still, she was aware: he would not listen if he had other urgent matters on his mind. Wordlessly, she leaned against him, ducking her head under his chin and pressing half of her face onto his taut neck, her breath warm and vibrating in rhythm with his pulse.

"I'm here," she murmured softly, lips brushing gently his throat in a hushed kiss.

And she waited for a reaction.

Not too long after (she had counted around twenty heartbeats before she felt warmth and steady pulsing lulling her into drowsiness, then unawareness), tendons eased up, disappearing under the patchwork of skin. She felt him loosen up, shoulders moving back slowly.

One of his hands slipped from hers and she pulled back to look at him properly, but he had already moved gloved fingers to press their cheeks together, their bodies touching from shoulder to waist.

The moment ended soon, barely alive for more than a bunch of seconds, but it was enough to cheer him up.

And soon enough, he was back from whatever gloomy world he had lingered in, a chuckle rumbling around. Without looking at her, he explained, "Heh, just remembered what that kiddo told me after we were done looking for wagon parts."

At her quizzical expression, he continued, "I offered him to help build the thing, but he said 'I know better than that!' Kiddo knows too darn much, yeah?"

She proceeded his words, but when their meaning finally sunk in, she giggled. "I suppose it's not exactly a bad thing."

He made a noncommittal agreeing noise from deep within his throat.

"Should we finish that wagon?"

"We've got time, don't we?"

After a minute, he replied, wrapping an arm around her, closing his eyes and resting his chin over her hair, replying quietly, "Yeah. Nothing's urgent."


End file.
